I've got your number
by C. Jackmen
Summary: Logan is looking for clues to his past meets a women whom could not only be a key to unlock more doors to his past, but also more troubles. Logan is Marvel's, she is mine. There is violent and sexual content in this story.  you've been warned
1. Chapter 1

"I've got your number!" Ch.1

He had ridden all day through the blistering desert sun. He desperately needed fuel, a meal and a drink for starters. Then he'd locate a shower and bed for the night. He recognized a sign for The Watering Hole and pulled into the combo station and tavern. He could smell that musky earthly scent, that was his own and noticed the three slick claw marks on the post of the sign, he'd imprinted some time ago. So he knew he was on the right trek. He lined his wide thick fingers though the impressions, he tried to determine how long ago they were made. He inhaled with the hope his nose would give him more of a clue of the time; however, no luck the scent was too old. But he did picked up a sweeter smell, it was candied and fresh, a women. He smiled, and then exhaled. Then dropped the grin when he landed a glimpse of his bashed sand and wind beaten fleshy hand and knuckles as it promptly healed it's self. He scanned around; cupped his hands under his leather sleeved jacket, before sprung the nozzle from the tank. He made sure no one else noticed either; afterward he paid the station attendant.

"Thanks Buddy. Ya know if they serve food?" He asked after the man gave him his change. The station attendant just shrugged his shoulders, never even made eye contact. The guy was clueless. The rider rode his bike over to the tavern entrance; parked his 1949 Harley Davidson Hydra Glide out front by the glass picture window. He stepped back checked out the sand damage to his vehicle. He positioned motorcycle by the arch just in case he needed a quick exit, this place looked a little rough and he had a way of making friends into enemies. He walked into the door of the _Watering Hole_. The sand trickled down each ripple and wrinkle of his dark brown leather jacket, which framed his solid burly physique. As he unzipped his sandy sooty jacket, he kicked and shook his broad quads to chase the dust from his dirty jeans and stumped his brown boots. Then he removed his tarnished aviator sunglasses cruelly folded them and clipped them inside his jacket. He looked around the dimly lit bar. The place was empty expect for a few clad bruits whom hovered over their poison. He rubbed the sand out of his charcoal coal hair and beard, he thought to himself, "_Something about this place smells sweetly familiar._"

He waft in the kitchen; he arrowed straight up to the bartender. "Hey bub, got any grub"? The whiskery old man stood with a white muscle shirt, soiled apron and a towel over the right shoulder. He gave the rider a good long look before he answered. The whiskery bartender stood about 6ft; seven inches taller the rider. And maybe 280-300lbs. He was a bigger man. The bartender sucked his teeth and sized up the dusty rider. The rider did not flinch. The rider could sense danger, and this guy just looked tough.

The bartender called back to the kitchen without taking his eyes off this new visitor, "Got a fella here who wants a bite". The rider noticed a sign that hang: Kitchen Closed. Now it was clear why the bartender had sized him up. Still, he did not soften his gaze at the whiskery old man, he waited.

The guy in the kitchen called up to the bartender. The bartender looked over his shoulder back to the cook to get a better ear. The cook called, "All's I got is some meat and noodles left. No sauce." The bartender turned to relay the message to the rider.

"All's we have is-"

Before he could finish, the rider cut him off.

"I'll take it. Oh, and I'll take a double Jack with a beer back. Whatever is the cheapest bottled"? The bartender gave it to him with his total. He handed the man cash and took a seat by the window. He quickly ate and asked for another round of drinks. The rider sat back and observed the people in the bar. He kept to himself.

Drink after drink order he watched the crowd grow larger and then smaller again. The sun began to set. He drew his attention outdoors. He witnessed the reds and blues the horizon painted the sky. The desert air brought in a huge gust of wind that swirled the sand near. The rider tried to understand why he would have marked the pole and when he did it. And why that sweet scent haunted him. Outside he watched a dust bowl blow closer; he inhaled deeply he thought about what the desert sand was doing to his newly painted Hydra. _"Why did I decide to ride though the Mojave?" _He thought to himself and took another deep breath. The sweet trace of lavender and vanilla, everywhere in this place seemed to grow stronger.

The scent comforted him; like finally arriving home on a cold night to a toasty cottage in the woods after a long and endless journey. He could almost hear the umbers crack. But this was not the home nor a cold evening, wasn't it even wooded. It was scorching, dry and some dingy old bar in the middle of nowhere. _"If I could only remember this place and why I would have come here. I know I marked it for a reason."_, he thought to himself. He leaned back in his seat. Closed his eyes for a moment tried to recall the last time he may have been here. With his eyes shot, his keen sense of smell and hearing took over. In the distance he could hear a Hayabusa, the sound of the motorcycle, he guessed 20 miles away. As the bike advanced so did the fragrance. He glanced out the window again, and viewed the spiraled sand as the Suzuki approached. The metallic ebony bike speed into the bar's lot and thundered several daunts before it finally benevolently parked next to his Hydra. He heard the booming music that came from the stereo helmet. The sand that had steamrolled through all the hustle pleasantly descended back to earth and charmingly rolled down her slight frame, which made the motorcycle seem massive.

His eyes cut though the dust and sand, as it began to settle, he saw her. It was the women whose scent lay everywhere in this place. Still seated her speed machine, she effortlessly removed her metallic black helmet which revealed her waist length ginger ringlets that mystically whipped the wind. (Now if you didn't know our rider, he has a true weakness for redheads.) She primped in the reflection of the large window. She rubbed her lips ruby before she spellbindingly hurtled form her mammoth machine. He sat up in his seat. His eyes followed the curves of her body. She wore a black leather jacket that streamlined her ample bosom, and narrowed out her delicate waist; tattered blue jeans allowed snick peeks of her silky alabaster skin and black heeled boots over her knees focused the eye to her shapely hips and thighs. His jaw dropped. She pleasingly worked her way to the window; seemly looked him in the eyes, then continued to preen her apparel in the mirroring glass of the window. Unzipped her jacket and folded her boots down below the knee. When she pitched forward, he spied her lacy unders. His nostrils flared as he enveloped that candy-coded incense. He never once did he take his eyes off of her. And she knew it.

The redolence of her honey like scent reminded him of the caves he and "Dog" played in a child so many life times ago. He eyes unmistakably followed her as she gracefully walked through the door. He tried to keep a picture of him and Dog as boys, so that his attraction would not be detected by her or any one else for that matter. But, it was too late, she was aware. The aura of the drinkery completely changed.

The once gloomy grungy gray feel of the tavern became shiny and had a renewed brightness. The whole place seemed to have had a rosy color to it now. He wasn't quite sure if it was his own sensual crave, or if this woman actually changed the atmosphere herself. All the men smiled and sat up straight when she made her way to the bartender. She was stunning; Even the rider himself straightened his back and wiped his mouth just to make sure he hadn't drooled. By the rhythm of her step he noted she cared a weapon or two. Probably for protection in the tougher places like this he gathered. She was small, short not fragile or frail. She definitely could hold her own. Slim and fit, taught and compacted, his type. She stood just less than 5 foot tall before the 5inch heels. She was lean and strong, her torn blue jeans looked painted on. She unzipped her jacket fully and bared her form fitted white t-shirt, she kept her gloves on.

It was obvious she had been here before, do to fact he could smelled her essence everywhere. She had her back to him, as she faced the whiskered man. The rider unzipped his leather jacket took out a cigar. He eyeballed every little twit and jerks her tush made as her tip toed to lean over the bar. His mouth watered. Even the wiggle of her heels was not left unnoted. He patted his pockets and looked for a lighter. Without a turn of her head, she shouted, "Heads up!" and tossed a tarnished flip lighter onto his table. The silver lighter landed an inch from his finger tips. He picked it up, he noticed the faded initials: R.A.W. His fingers remembered holding this lighter before. He buffed the letters with his right thumb and a little bit of the fuel leaked out on to his hand. He closed it and licked the fuel from his fingers. Then he softly placed it on the table. He smelled and tasted the different notes. This was not your every day store bought fuel. It was different, homemade. He closed his eyes to inhale the freshly lit smoke.

A vision of a girl running in a field of lavender and tall grass pops in to his head. The girl was smiling and laughing, maybe 14 years old. He Tried to focus on the girl's face, the aromatic scent of vanilla seeded deeper the deeper. The memory became more vivid. Just as the girl's face became clear, the fiery redhead grabbed the lighter off the table. His eyes opened and he looked up. He gleamed to thanks her. She said nothing and walked to the music box, her back to him once again. She could feel his yearning stare, she ignored it for the most part, but a very small half smile curled the corner of her left lip. The bartender called out to her. "Rose we are just 'bout out o' _Jack._ _That_ _fella" _he pointed his head to the rider, "in the wind'r been drink'n it like wa'r. We have two bottles _Wil' Turkey _'n two _Makers, _which ya wan'?"

Under their breath in unison, as if it was rehearsed, she and the rider both said faintly to their self's, "UUHa, Wild Turkey, I'd rather drink goat urine." The rider cocked an eye brow her way; his heightened ears heard her words.

"Let's start with the Makers and give me that bottle of Jack and a glass!" He handed her the two bottles, one Makers and the other the 3/4 empty Jack Daniels and the glass. He was surprised she asked for a glass. Normally she drank straight from the bottle. Rose smiled, winked and said, "Thanks Scottie." Before she turned around, she lost the smile on the lips; however it still glowed in her eyes, and she strutted over to the rider. "Okay. Finish what you start!"She said and slammed the bottle of Jack down onto the table. The table jarred, so did the ashtray, his cup, but not his wrist and stogie, in front of him. He lifted them in anticipation of her jolt. She paid attention to his agility. She stood held her glass and bottle. Then she poured herself a glass of Makers and he looked up at her, his eyes fixed. He kicked the chair away from the table and gestured for her to sit. She did.


	2. Chapter 2

I've got you number Ch. 2

As she sat down she noticed the tension formed by his thighs muscles though unclean jeans. Her eyes walked up past his powerful legs settled just below his western style belt bucket. She felt the blood run through her vines. The sensation tingled as the sanguine fluid warmed her body; raced up her neck flushed her lips as it rushed to her mouth. He took notice as her eyes traveled and stopped. Her lips pursed, he waited to see the pink flood her lips as blood raced to them. He smiled. Her crest thumped fast and hard. He sensed; smelled, heard and saw her arousal as it grew. The scent of lavender in the room began to fade leaving the sweet essence of vanilla in the air. The glow of the room had become magenta.

"Did the room just change color, again"? He thought to himself, "Mmmm. She smells so sweet!" She heard his thoughts. She fought her lips from curling into a smile. She enjoyed listening to men's minds. She found them simple, unlike her own. She also delighted in the way it made her feel when men noticed the way she traced their contours and shapes. She especially liked the way this one was built; strong, hardy, unyielding, and solid. She licked her lips as she slowed her breath. Then she continued upward. The ripples under is shirt and the robust brood shoulders made her bite her lip. He reached for his glass, she watched intently as he pressed the cup to his lips. She wanted to be that glass. He swallowed; inhaled and savored the candied scent she imitated. "I wonder what she tastes like", he thought to himself as he placed the glass on the table. He took a drag from his cigar. "Vanilla and cream." he brushed his lips as he imaged to himself. Her legs shuddered a little and she took notice of his tongue as it passed his lips. He looked down at the thighs as he sucked in. She steadied her pulse so that his heart beat more rapid than her own. She eagerly watched him eyeball her body confidently until his eyes met hers. Desire steamed off of both of them.

Both knew what was on the other's mind, neither spoke. The two just drank in the others fueled appetite; the couple got a charge out of the others burn. Both stubborn to admit how hot the flames grow for each other; they took pleasure in the others heated lustful stare. There was a long ached silence before he broke it. "Rose is it? What does the "A" and "W" stand for?" He referred back to her lighter.

She smiled, then tightened her eyes just a little, "You're assuming the "R" is for Rose." She moved closer to him, slid her knees between his legs and alluringly placed a hand his chest. His whole body trembled at her touch. She bewitchingly drew the military tags from under his shirt. "Logan Hewlett," she read aloud, and then she flipped it over. "Wolverine?" she questioned, and then seductively placed it under his shirt just as temptingly as she removed it. Before she tore her hand from his pounding chest; she paused, widened her palm to feel the brawn beneath his clothing. Vanilla filled the air; there was no trace of lavender or any other odor, neither the cigar nor liqueur. Logan's muscles hardened. He met her hand with his own. He knew he could no longer hide his yearn, after she felt his body quiver. His hand placed atop of hers he felt his own heart rapidly pulsate under her hand; he searched her eyes for hope that his thirst would quenched. Her eyes did not answer nor deny him. He squeezed it before he relinquished her hand. She gloated and poured them both a glass of bourdon. Amused, she sat back in her seat. She wondered how long this game would continue and took a huge gulp.

By this time, Logan was confident she controlled the glow of the room. He also knew she was just as turned on as he was, simply; her heart raced, blood blazed though her anatomy, so did the candied scent and lambency of the tavern. The fragrance of vanilla grew heavy and more sugared than ever. The brilliance of then room became a glittery magenta, with pink and orange flecks. His eyes gleamed; he envisioned what the release would feel like once he'd extinguished her scorched flames for him. He smirked.

She did not have to read his mind to know where his thoughts lead. She encompassed enough self control and changed the subject, and answered his earlier question. "River, the "R" is for River Amber Waters. Scottie just calls me that." She took a long drink. "When we first met he thought I smelled like rosemary, so he's called me "Rose" ever since." She added before taking another swig, then refilled the glass.

"River? Huh, your parents must have been hippies or something?" He chuckled.

River rolled her eyes, and some of the sparkle left the room. "I guess your parents were zoo keeper or wild life rescuers?" She snickered.

Tickled Logan laughed allowed and grinned. "What if I just call you Nilli?"

"Nilli?" River asked.

"Yeah, you smell sweet like vanilla, Nilli" He replied with a large inhale and loud exhale. He loved every minute of this dance.

She smiled coyly, a little embarrassed that she had not counseled this part of her mutation earlier. River felt like her perfume and ozone betrayed her ability to hide her attraction for this rider.

Part of River's mutation gave her emotions vibrant aroma, along with vivid atmospheric color changes around her which pan for miles, easily filling any room. The colors based with every emotion or combinations of feelings with corresponding colors. Vanilla was sensuality or desire, with a pink to magenta aura; Lavender scent for happiness or contentment, having a rosy pink to lilac color and rosemary for fear or loneliness, showed slivery gray to black in hue; just to name a few. She had not yet mastered control of this power. However most of the time she used sorcery to saddle the effects from most people's conscience, which it would lay in their subconscious. It proved to be affective on non- mutates. But, her witchcraft proved weak without her Danu amulets on mutates with a healing factor. Since she had just come from a battle her powers of magic were weak; her energy low and necklace amulet lost in the crusade.

Logan leaned back in his chair exulted with glory that her checks blushed. The front two legs of the chair off the ground, he held the cigar clinched in his teeth. A great grin covered his face, just on the verge of crow. He was amused and pleased; he felt that he may have just won this round of "cat and mouse" and placed his hands behind his head to further bask in his victory. River quickly tipped the chair. She exhaled with glee. Logan jumped to his feet before the chair hit the floor. He taped her under the chin with his index finger affectionately and lightheartedly came back, "So Nalli, you like to play games, huh"? Then quickly cut his eyes at her, he tried to look intimidating. The tavern sparkled magenta. River fiercely returned the look. Together they beard down in the attempt to grasp fast to their own cruel glare; neither appeared the least bit convincing. The pair cracked. The so called "menacing" stare crumbled into loud belly laughs. They burst in to a roar of laughter. They cheered in their merriment.

Involved in the fun, River noticed the light on her watch flickered red. She rolled her eyes, the place dimed a little. She looked up at Logan, who pretended not to notice and the bar illumed as she turned the light off.

Simultaneously, their laugher died down once they gave attention to the conversation Scottie and Joe were having. The bartender and cook gossiped in a whisper; they knew River could hear the smallest of sound. "Rose su'e has tak'n a lik'n ta da rider fella. I anit seen 'er shine like dat n thirty some y'rs!" Scottie darted his eyes to River, in the hope she didn't catch that. She did. The tavern's atmosphere dulled. Scottie briskly looked down at the glasses he pretended to clean. River poked her lips out and scowled at the two men then popped her knuckles and snarled. She cleared her throat to mask her low growl; she prayed Logan did not her.

River pushed the red light off on her watch again. She could her Logan's thoughts as he tried to image River without her radiant glow, under his breath he repeated, "Some thirty years."

"What did you say? You mumbled." The bar lost all brilliance, River continued. "Maybe you shouldn't be drinking this!" She heard him loud and clear. Yet, he didn't need him to know she also had heightened hearing; which was just as good, if not better than his. She pulled the half empty bottle closer to herself. She steadied and calmed her voice to cloak her frustration, "Scottie! I think this fella maybe done." River stood, firmly clutched the bottle in hand ready to toss it at Scottie's head. Scottie knew without a doubt she in fact heard him gossip.

Mildly Logan parked a hand over hers, on the bottle, "Nope. Not yet, dar'len." He poured her and himself another drink and planted the bourbon on the table. "Ya gotta finish what ya start." He chuckled. River simmered down; sucked down the cupful. He soaked her cup again, and continued, "I was just wondering, how such a lovely lady, like you could come to a dump like this?" He looked around, they were the only patients. "I mean, either you like the crowd or this is how you pick up guys." Logan cocked a brow and looped a half smiled on his trap, then took a long slow drag from the cigar. He slide one foot between hers. He flirted. She softened and the luminosity of the room returned so did the sweet aroma.

"Cute," She tapped his foot with hers. Then she flung her lengthy ginger curls, "Yeah, I come here to for the intellectually conversations." River took a swig from the top of the glass, added. "You could say I've been known to 'pick up men' here, then drop them through this window on occasion. You could be next." She sneered.

"I guess I'd better mind my manners." Logan replied. He waited for the gleam in her eyes to come back as he outlined her face. He noticed a curl stuck to her lashes, he delicately folded it be hide her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek as he dropped them to the table. River gave a relaxed unwinding, exhaled. The room reeked of vanilla.

"Only if you value your life, Mutts." River gave him a kittenish grin, and then plucked the cigar from his mouth.

"Mutts?" Logan questioned. He didn't mind her playful manner, in fact he found it adorable. She mockingly rolled the lit cigar in her gloved fingers.

"Yep." She answered and stretched her arm out to touch his side burns endearingly. He closed his eyes and took in the warmth of her touch. Ablaze sweltered in his veins, he again located her hand, rooted her palm to his jaw. He gently opened his eyes and fixed them to hers. This time, her eyes did not hide the answer. Her whole body vibrated and fluttered. She magically floated the cigar to the ashtray on his side of the table, he didn't notice. He was fixed on her mouth. River's lips scorched pink as the fevered excitement drowned them once again. He drew in the savory candy-coded honey like redolent he so eagerly wanted. He edged closer. The captivating vanilla intensified. He positioned a knee between hers; it traveled up her inner thigh as he approached. She bit her lip. He licked his lips preparation to meet hers. Collectively they tilted their heads as their mouths neighed forward. The atmosphere flourished more cosmic. Burst of pinks, oranges and greens colors erupted in the field of magmata. His lips pushed forth, she turned; his mouth sweep her cheek and ear. She pressed her chest to his and caressed his beard with the side of her face. He smoothed his nose along her ear. His exhalation fell on her neck and frenzied through her anatomy. Faintly she whispered grasping for her breath; her lips tenderly brushed his ear.

"Now what kind of lady would be if I allowed a stranger to kiss my lips on the very night we meet?" Then jumped up and bolted to the juke box.

Animated Logan thumped the table with his fist. "River Waters, you are a tease!" he boosted. She turned around blow a kiss his way from over her left shoulder and giggled. He pretended to be stabbed in the heart and grabbed his chest. Both chuckled, she turned back to the music player. He emptied the bottle into their cups and picked up the cigar. Then walked over to Scottie and order the last bottle of Marker Mark.

Logan cased her curves as she tossed about attempting to load the machine. It would not take her dollar. He indulged in her pouted face and body jerks, she so determined to get the wrinkled cash into the box. As he analyzed River a smug grin parked on his face, he thought to himself "I like her; she is feisty yet tender and corky. Her scent drives me wild and what a tease! She so cute the way she flips her hips trying to make that damn dollar bill go in. I'll let her suffer a little longer, just because it's so damn cute. Her aura and scent make it easy to know when and what sets her off. That could have saved so many relationships! A chic that comes with a manual, plus she was beautiful, not just beautiful, stunning, and gorgeous! And the hair and that tushy! I'm sure has a boyfriend. Ha! That's never stopped me before. I know she's attracted to me. I didn't come here looking for a fling or chic. If Ororo was here, she'd tell me, 'to go for it, you don't find women like this every day.' And she would be right." He sighed out loud, River turned and gave beastly glare, in discouragement and quickly snapped her head back to the juke box. She was too focused on the machine to read his mind. "I hate to end this darling little dance but the room is losing the sparkle again and turning redder. And it's getting harder to smell that delicious vanilla over this new peppery stench." Logan turned around to face the bartender.

"Hey, Whiskers, got any crisp bills?" Logan urged Scottie, ready for change before he'd carry off the full bottle.

Scottie nodded and held out the cash. Logan reached before Scottie released the cash from hand, he peered cautiously at Logan. "Now, I anit one ta be put'n my nose where it aint ta be but." Logan rubbed his beard, amused and ready for the next bit of clothesline Scottie was going to spill. "I saw dat move ya done try'd on Rose. She likes ya or you'd been outside dat wind'r, wish'n you'd gone a diff'er bar t' night. She's a vix'n, dat one. Her flames a burn ya soon'r den da'll warm ya! I ah worn'n ya, She'll tear ya heart out." Scottie let go of the cash and pointed to Logan. "She'll burn ya!"

Logan smiled, "Thanks for the warn'n bub.", and then stuck the stogie in his trap. He strolled over and stood be hide her. Logan leaned in over her, his chest brushed her back; he slid a crisp bill into the box. Pulled the cigar out of his mouth and placed that hand above hers on the juke box. "There's only one catch, since it's my buck. I get ta help save ol' whiskers here" he pointed with his thumb from the juke box to Scottie, "and myself from that terrible noise you call music."

She fixed her hand on top of his, he spared his fingers and she dropped hers in-between. She stepped bad to feel his body spoon her own. It was a perfect fit. Jointly their bodies jarred. He moved her hair, bottle still in hand. He warmly bordered her neck his lips, he was careful not to actually touch his mouth to her neck. Her eyes rolled in delight. The sparkles sprang and glittered erased the red to magenta and the spiced peppered smell faded into delicious vanilla once again. He pushed his hips forward and wrapped a few of his fingers from his left hand around her to point at a song choice. His cheek touched hers as he drew closer to read the next song.

She could feel his firmness behind her. It made her rethink her choice of that prematurely stopped kiss. Logan knew she felt the stability of his physique; stock his nose in her locks and inhaled as deep as his lungs would allow him to breath in her sugary balm. She dipped her head back. "I want to flip her over and take that kiss and more", He said to himself as she read his mind. She let out a very small tiny little moan; she wished he'd not heard. But she knew it was too late, he had heard it. He squeezed her hand and inhaled again. Her anatomy throbbed as the blood race up her spin again. Her neck blazed, she slowly and seductively pulled the lot of her hair away from her backside to the front of her body. Her full nape exposed to him. He swallowed hard; he didn't want to blow it. He thought to himself, "She is obviously not one for a nighter. Oh! But what a night that would be! Okay I can wait, But for how long? Damn! I can't stand here." With that thought he finished his song choices. He clasped her hand once more, then slipped the cigar into his kisser and went back to the table.

Shocked, he would give up so easily, River wandered back to the window seat. Engulfed in vanilla and magenta River reached into her jacket for a smoke. She found her lighter, no smoke. Logan just eyed her; he waited for her next play.

"Auh." Rivers sighed. "I'm out."Logan open his coat pulled out a cigar held it out to offer it to her. He did not make eye contact. Grateful she replied, "Thanks Logan." Then lit the stogie, she stood delayed, she listened for Denni, whom she knew would come to check up on her soon. She blow rings in the air and rolled the cigar in her gloved fingers. He noticed her phone vibrate on the table. She hastily cut it off.

"I bit that's him now." Logan hissed.

"Him who?" River asked, she was pretty sure he could not read minds.

"The guy whom you heart belongs to." Logan defended.

She laughed aloud and seat beside him. "As if! I am not the type who gives away my heart!" She looked at him; he beamed.

"So that sounds like a challenge."He chuckled.

"You think you could meet that challenge?" River boosted.

"Yeah, I'm half way there, now." Logan boldly claimed after he palmed her knee. Then thought to himself, "What am I saying! I can't even get her to kiss me."

River giggled, she listened to his thoughts. "So is this a bet you're willing to wager?" She took a long drag and leered at him.

He drank both her and his glasses dry before he answered, "Yep."

She tried desperately to hold the roar of laughter rolling up from her toes, "A bike for a bike then Mutts. If I lose, you get the fastest ride in the galaxy and when I win I keep the Hydra and your affections." Then she poured then both a drink, still giggling under her breath at his foolishness.

"Game on darl'n." Logan held his hand out to shake on it. They shook and then he flipped her hand over to kiss it.

River rolled her eyes, "give me a break!" and let lose her howling laugh. They both laughed together. Logan knew he was going to loss and so did River. He began to wonder how he would get back to the mansion with a vehicle. River took a buff as she calmed her laughter.

"What brings you here? Did you get lost heading back to the base?" She pried Logan, to change the subject. She couldn't bear to watch a grown man blush. She found it unattractive.

Pleased that she had changed the topic he began to explain, "My past, I've been tracking…" he paused, what he wanted to say was he tracked his own scent to this place. "I followed some clues that lead me here. I lost parts of my past. I'm just trying to piece them all together. How long has this place been here?" He took his eyes off her and watched a bowl of dust outside the window. Then he continued, "This place is in the middle of nowhere, No city or anything for what, 140 miles to Vegas 8 miles from Valley of Death!"

"Well, it's been here since the gold rush, but when the rush was over the city of Beatty dead. Now it's just a place for torus. The Watering Hole was once the center of the town, the solon, grouser and pharmacy and I think the doctor's office was even in the building too." River's phone began to vibrate again; she turned it off once more. "Yeah, this place always clears out by 12am, however it's open 24hours. Scottie and Joe run the place. When their shifts are over Denni and I come in." River looked back at Joe and Scottie who had their jackets on. "Looks like it maybe my night, alone." She looked down at her watch then out the window.

"Why do you stay open so late, if the place clears by 12 each night?" Logan stated.

"My mentor, Steven, who's like a father to me, believes to never turn anyone at any time. We are the only stop in all directions for over 100 miles, like you said. We have gas, food and lodging. Open all the time for anyone who needs it." She claimed, before she drew her attention out side. He could tell there was more to the story. Logan's keen scene of smell can detect the tiniest of change, easily sniffing out half truths or lies. She didn't divulge the whole story and he knew it.

"Did you say, there's a base around here?" He questioned.

"Yeah, Edward Air Force Base, it's about 186 miles southwest of here, give or take some miles. What branch of the military did you say you where again?" She buzzed back, she heard him mentally conclude she only gave part of the story.

Not sure how to respond, he simply ignored the question. "You have rooms? I'll need a place to stay tonight. I think I will check out that base in the morning." Logan asked.

"Let me guess, its top secret, right? That's why you failed to say what branch. That's okay." She smiled. "I have my ways of getting answers." She took off her jacket; hang it on the back of the chair and tossed her crimson hair. He couldn't help but stare at her bosom. She leaned back in the chair, she toyed with him. Her form openly illustrated for him.

Scottie and Joe walked over to the table, "Rose, we are headed out for the night." Joe said as he kissed her cheek. "Denni, should be a long." And they both walked out the door, Scottie turned and looked back at Logan through the window and pointed at Logan with two fingers and back to his own face. Logan coiled the corner of his lips and nodded back. River cut her eyes at Scottie, then Joe elbowed him and they drove off.

Now alone with her soon to be new pet, River foolhardily bounced; swayed to the music and lifted her arms and slough her hair about. Logan could feel the flux come over him again. He gobbled it up, just as she intended. He knew this display was sport, but that didn't stop him from steaming up as her cottony alabaster flesh jiggled in the right places. She bent in the middle which gave him full view down her shirt. Then she pressed her frame to his and delicately whispered in his ear, "How long will you be staying?" Logan body pulsated. She played him like a flute. River gloated. Then she drove her hands down to his loins, just to confirm his lust for her. Before she shimmed away he slid his left hand up her spin. His thumb firmly held her still against his body. His fingers wrapped around her waist. With his other hand he run his fingers up the nape of her ginger ringlets; unfolded his thumb to her cheek in front of her ear. She pitched her face into his beard. Logan let out a growling moan that bellowed up his cage and tumbled out his mouth into her ear. He directed, "Come on, come on darl'n," his lips tenderly caressed her lob, "Let me taste those lips." River quivered. Then he lowered his mouth to her jaw line; veered across the edge of her jaw bone and up her chin. His lips were soft and experienced. Her rib cage rose and fell with each breath. He paused, waited for her to protest. She did not. Her mouth open and lips cherry red, he tilted her head with is right thumb. He took her mouth with his own. "Mmm.", He rumbled, she was sweeter then he guessed. She whimpered as her body went limp. Vanilla spilled from her. Crowded and abundant it stained the air. He held her tighter and pressed her harder into him. Before he gently pulled his mouth away; he delayed the release of her bottle lip. He smiled. She gradually opened her eyes. Her eyes glazed over; mouth gaped; her heart pounded; she panted and strained to find her breath. She swallowed. Her head still reclined, he withdrew another. Unwavered he gripped her and clenched close. The fire in her boiled and melted away any earlier complaints or disapproval. When he lips tugged away she pitched forward not ready to abandon his embrace. More aggressive, he dove deeper into her mouth. He ran his hands down her back; intently latched onto her rear and yanked her from her seat onto his lap. He legs folded be hide, her ankles at his knees. Motionlessly, her hands drove, up his thighs, chest, up his neck and though the back of his hair. River craved her gloved fingers though his ravened dark hair; gathered her palms at his ears and beard. She towed him near.

Up for air she effortlessly allowed his lower lip to fall back. In that spilt second between their hungry carnal fueled appetites. Their eyes met. Together each glimpsed the crush, which scorched in each other's eyes. Both recognized their own captivation bound by the other. Then he mouthed her neck, chin and back up to her mouth again. By this time her hands on his face; her knees dug into his hips. He didn't mind pain with his pleasure, however one by one he palmed and cosseted her legs down until she straddled him to the chair. She hugged her leg muscle taut around his trunk. Her toe tips pressed into the floor.

He pulled away feeling the slip of self control. She did not wish to halt. She was primed. River slopped Logan's head back by the tuff she fisted behind and buried her face under his wooly chin. He growled; coursed his fingers up the back of her shirt. His wide and mighty feelers pressed her supple flesh buckled them to the tips of her shoulders and crashed her body down onto him. River's milky skin flushed pink and sweltered by impact as she fireballed him again. The wooden chair cracked beneath them and began to give way. Logan scoped her posterior and stood. River encircled her legs to his abdomen and locked them. Her mouth nibbled and grazed its way up to his mouth after marking him. He groaned and tore his lips away. His grip full with the lot of her crimson curls, jerked her backward. He skimmed her throat with lips and canines. His woolen chin drove the cellar of her shirt down as she arched back. Logan smiled and softened his caress.

Traveled up, flatten his nose to her ear, "More than half way there." He murmured and abandoned her nuzzle, looked outside at her motorcycle, "Fastest ride in the galaxy, huh?" he chuckled and returned to her. She smirked and lowered her limbs one at a time. He still held firmly her in his arms. He claimed her lips once more. Handicapped her arms and one wrapped him. He laughed. River opened her eyes dropped the leg and unfolded her arms from his neck. She stepped back and slapped his face.

His head turned from the force and he thumbed the drop of blood off his lip. River stormed to the lady's room. He smirked, "Wow!" and began to chuckle. The tavern did loss some of the fireworks; however the field of magenta and aromatic vanilla still felled the air. After twenty minutes or so he decided to check on her.

As Logan walked into farther back of the bar the glow gradually changed from the bright magenta to rosy pink. He walked back to the hall where the stairs lead up to the hotel on left and to the right the solon's restrooms. He strolled down hall to the restrooms, the aura faded to lilac. Logan stood in the door way propped one elbow on the edge leaned to the left. He Waited. He viewed from every cracks the lady's rooms the aura of lilac seeped out like heavy smoke. He listened, nothing. He smelled her fresh lavender scent. He knew she was still in side. Not only could he sense her, he heard her heart beat, now slow and steady, just like her breath. With his foot tentatively slid the door open.

He peeked inside, "Where is she", he said to himself as he stepped into the women's room. He inhaled there was no trace of the vanilla, just lavender. He advanced to the center of the room looked for feet under the two brown stalls. "Nilli, come on, I can smell you." He closed his eyes to let his nose do the work. He followed her cleaning lavender scent right to the door he just walked though. He stopped opened his eyes spun in all directions. She was nowhere to be seen. He smirked, looked up and there she was seated upside down legs crossed in a meditation pose. Her lengthy crimson ringlets dangled right square to the tip of his nose. The cosmic aura agitated over her cascaded down the ceiling over the walls spilled out every where as her body hummed. He stood on his toes reached above and gently brushed her fair ivory cheek, the fuzz on back of his hand tickled.

Before he saw the black leather glove hit the floor, she was on his back. Nails dug in and though his throat, he heard the screech of metal on metal then the small pops as her fingers clinched his spin. One by one her nails spilt the vertebrae. Finally the glove fell to the white tiled floor. His blood followed.

"Who are you?" River's voice echoed astronomically and trenchantly hollowed out even the darkest of spots. Everything turned amber in color; the spice of ginger collapsed to the earth like gravity. Even the view out the window in the dark of night illuminated; the sand propelled and jarred as the harrowing depth fell. The weight brought a permanent still and a deepened terror more invincible than death.

"Au..." his vocal cords severed, no words formed. He promptly moved one hand to his bloody neck, the other swiftly over his back to the lot of her scarlet locks. She chanted briskly and brutally to fight his healing factor, the charm allowed the sanguine liquid to flow readily from his neck as she squeezed. It poured over her fist down his white shirt and clothing. His blood stained the floor deep burgundy. His claws began to peek thought his tanned skin between his knuckles. A drop of blood slowly dripped from each small claw hole then reversed back into his flesh. She did not notice, or she would have ripped them completely out along with his plasma.

Lucky for him she retrieved his thoughts and emotions before his head detached and fully drained of all vital fluid. She heard his mind call out his own name, saw the vision of their resent romantic play. Also felt his remorse, of his soon to be act of self defense, he did not want to kill her when they only met hours earlier. River rolled his head back dug her gloved fingers deep into slots of eye sockets, his nose separated her middle finger from the ring finger, her thumb on the back of the his skull, she pressed her palm squeezed his eyes into his brain. Before the balls popped, she smelled his face and remembered his scent. She snapped back.

River stopped all pressures from both hands, just before his claws gained full length. She jumped off his back rotated him around and freed her nails. In the microsecond of her liberated grip and subsequence catch the room turned from the amber color to a slivery grey to indigo and then powder blue. Her scents changed just as rapidly. From the spice of ginger to rosemary, mint and rested in the pure loving scent of gardenia. With her gloved hand she cradled him by the neck, the weight of his body rested in her palm, his whole person bend backward from his tippy toes. His shiny bone claws fully back inside, his healing factor began to take effect. Simultaneously she cast an elixir spell and waved her other hand over his windpipe. Her commands once again thundered through the bowels of earth and the beyond ages; jolted utterly all that was and ever will be. Her voice channeled between time and space; from beginning to the end of infinity. Every ounce of blood lost coiled and swirled gathered from the ground, his boots, jeans shirt and repaired Logan's wound. His entire anatomy shook with the walls and floor as she hurried his healing. When her incantation was completed the universe jostled to a halt and lifted tranquilly; the blight thoroughly mended.

She helped he came to a stand. "Damn, I've heard of ruff sex," Logan rolled his head and rubbed his back of his neck. "Let's go back to for play." He said in a scratchy voice and cuffed that became a chuckle. She winked and cracked a smile that started at one corner and rolled to the other. "I should know better to not disturb a warrior in meditation." He embraced her. Deeply remorseful she buried her head in his chest; he held her head firm and kissed her head. He was not angry; he had many times done the same thing. For the first time he knew what it felt like to be on the opposite end of hunted soldier's mistaken assault.


	3. Chapter 3

I've got your number #3

River's face was planted in the trench between Logan's stout chest muscles; her nose enfolded in the center. She inhaled his woodsy salty musk and welcomed the rhythm of his heart as it steadied her thoughts; together allowed both a calmness that soothed to the core. His chin rested upon her satiny cinnamon ringlets. Her arms circumference securely around waist; her palms cling fixed to his back, while her fingertips fell delicately in the ridges of his spin. His sturdy arms enclosed her shoulders beneath and overlapped her nimble frame. He held her intensely stable as their bottomless breathes synchronized. Echoed the harmony and tranquility each had found in the cradle of the other. His sympathetic compassion in this motionless embrace balanced and granted a surprised devotion nether wanted, however both needed whether they wished to reveal it for or not. He had forgiven her, and she known that without having to read his mind or hear the words from his lips. River felt protected and secure in the benevolence of his nestle. For the first time Logan genuinely released himself of past years of malice self loathing for the same lapse. It was an emotional cure for ages of unrepaired hurts. He felt amended with himself. The lull of the nestled warmth of Logan's arms gave them both substructures. The invigorating fragrance of pure gardenia suffused the air and a transparent solaced powder blue colored room; the indication that River conjured a repair enchantion. He drew in the soft revitalizing scent.

Logan immediately opened his eyes as smell enveloped his lungs; the stitch of blood rapidly began to seed over the flowery essence. He altered his head back when the moisture soaked his palm. River fought fiercely to magically mend her own injury. However she was extremely weakened from having aided Logan's inborn healing factor against her unnatural cabonadium alloyed talons.

Mutants, like Logan whom have the X-gen, or a regeneration mutation in their genetic code are dramatically slowed when cabonadium is inserted and lodged within their body. This suppressed his ability to cure himself after River's blunder where she practically chopped off his head. Whether he knew it or not, she had quickly reversed the effects on him to correct and heal his blight without delay or lasting damage to his innate mutation.

Without Seun, her ensorcelled amulet her vehemence was gravely exhausted. River unfortunately needed to regain clout before she could manipulate any mystic alchemy. But, there was no time. She kept buried in his chest. It simply felt good. "Of all the days, of all the years and of all the battles; this is way it would seem the universe will take me. Really? Tonight of all the nights, after nearly two thousands of years fighting the Sckrull and the Kree wars; after losing Seun today… In the arms of a stranger; a _rather sexy hunk of a stranger_, none the else a stranger… Well, it's not the worse way to dead." She reasoned to herself. "He smells like home, my real home not that damn castle. But the rolling green hills of… oh his body is so warm… I need to let Stephen know I have lost Seun, before it gets into the wrong hands, if it hasn't already. Stad! Rivi, it is better to try then to hope!"

Logan gaped at the reflection of her crimson drenched shirt as the sanguinary trickled through the spaces between his fingers. "Nilli, babe!" he blurted as his feelers promptly scanned for the bane. Her body shivered while the delicate blue glow and pristine gardenia redolence proceed to waver. She had held her claret from emerging as long as possible. The powdery blue aura flickered and bleached with an unsettled white tone. He continued to rub down her back until his fingers fell into the three stab wounds he had unknowingly harmed her soft fair flesh. "Damn it. I must have…" His words were stopped by River's frigid fingers when she coursed up his chest. She mildly rolled her head back; trembled again as the cold thicken. She slid her hands up his rugged bust her fingers became toasted by his body heat. She glued her glittery greens eyes to his sea foam blue eyes.

She worked desperately, to project her thoughts to his mind, "Logan, you have to worn the Sorcerer Supreme that I have lost Seun. Can you hear me?", however as her inclination grew her energy abated, the attempted failed.

Her ungloved hand, which unveiled her spiky metal nails; drifted up to meet his warm lips, she was cautious not to nick his olive skin. The other floated limberly to his solid shoulder. He saw the feebleness increase in her emerald green eyes, for the sparkle dimed while she struggled to constrain them open. The chills became more brisk and abrupt. Her cottony pale skin picked up a ghostly white color as her flesh cooled more with each dither. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

The brilliance of blue and ornate aroma she produced became as faint as her voice, "Shh.", River silenced him. She suffered an extended sluggish blink; shallow trifled breathe and mustered up the stamina to whisper. Her slight little body drained; her petite frame drooped in his firm clutch. Logan lifted her unstable icy elfin figure; pressed her tight to his torrid abound trunk, her black heeled boots danged.

Logan examined through the mirror, in front of them; her vital fluid bustled throw his bulky fingers down his elbows and harbored at his feet. He felt for the three stab clefts. Then blocked the gashes with three digits, she groaned while he tested the depth of damage. It was grim! "Logan I'm…," River scarcely audible, ever to his profoundly keen ear.

Her aura now a somber grayish tone; her scent more a mix of rosemary and gardenia, both hovered in close proximity, no longer fanned throughout the building as she wrestled her sorceress conjures to heal her failed body. She had unsuccessfully floundered and she knew it was futile.

"Hush; now, I know. We need ta get ya all fix up here, Hun." Logan's bloody thumb buttoned her month. She rapidly grew weaker with each bitter tremor; his eyes darted around the room. He needed to think fast and stop the sanguine fluid before she perished. The gore pooled horrendously below. Her respiration diminished. The faint grayish tone and rosemary and gardenia depleted faster. He inhaled, noted the fade and beckoned, "Stay with me Darl'n, stay with me!" as he kneeled to the floor, all at once her splendor was completely done and entire physique collapsed. "River! River!" Logan called out. She did not answer nor respond, "Sonvua".

He known she wasn't a goner yet, he could still here her heart, faintly. On his knees, he held her in one hand; the other removed his jacket, balled it for pillow to lay her head. Logan rolled her onto her belly, her shirt and jeans soaked scarlet. Hastily, he tore the back of her shirt off, palmed her pockets for the lighter then yanked a knife from her boot. He heated the blade, "This is going to hurt, Darl'n." He related as he branded the furrows to a seal. He sucked air in through his teeth; he never liked the reek of burned skin. She did not flinch nor moan. "I am sorry, Darl'n." He confessed while he clogged the last kerf. This time he felt her body release when she gasped for air. "She's a tough cookie", he thought to himself when he effortlessly scooped her limp pitiful frame off the burgundy stained bottom of the room. He left the jacket, dagger and lighter where they lay on the restroom tile.

Logan immediately stood; attentively gathered her bleak bantam body carried close to his naturally thermic chest. While he carted her effete figure, and wondered to himself, "How a pint-sized gal could pump enough blood to form such a humongous puddle on the ground; I hope she makes it thought the night. I don't need _any more_ guilt from _anther_ careless death on my hands." Heavy-heartedly he headed to the stair well, were he saw the bed and breakfast sign earlier. His brown boots discarded garnet prints which evanished at his gait on the dark wooden steps.

Once at the top of the stairs Logan placed his face over hers, and grabbed a key off the wall behind the desk. His face warmed hers. Cheek to cheek he verified River's breathe on his earlobe and took appreciation in her struggle. "She anit no wilt'n flower." Logan assured himself while he winced to open to the room.

" Hang in there, Nilli." He pleaded when he hurled the covers and prudently settled her in, careful not to bump her scorched skin. Pulled off her leather boots one by one, Logan smirked at two sabers as they crashed to the floor from her left boot then two blades from the right. "Little banderilla", he commented aloud then covered her. Tenderly tilted her head to the left; shifted her now blood soaked curls behind her ear. "You know, this is not _exactly_ how I hoped this night would go. I have to admit, gettin ya in ta bed _was_ on my agenda, but I expected a _little more_ action outa ya." Logan joked and searched for a reaction. River gave a very slight minuscule coil to her mouth; he smiled and affectionately brushed her cheek. "Dat a girl!" he chuckled. Slipped his broad hands beneath the covers, caressed and massaged her feet, pursed up her legs to aid her circulation. Progressed forward to her back and arms, he persisted until the pink of his touch was seen on her fair skin.

Logan sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers throw his thick black hair, "Shit! I'm no doctor." He muttered aloud; stood and patted himself down for his cell phone. "It's in my jacket!" He glanced down at River, "I'll be right back up." Squeezed her then darted through the door.

Logan bolted; his feet sparsely skimmed the stairs. He raced to the Lady's room to access his phone, which was in his jacket. When he stooped and plucked his soggy coat from the ensanguined quagmire his attention drew to the window. He detected a semi-truck as it barreled down the roadway, directed toward the tavern. He flopped the blood-soaked garment back to the floor after. "Let's hope it keeps going." He grumbled to himself. Logan flipped off the open sign and all the lights in the bar. Then he cantered back to the restroom. Stroked his beard at the sight of River's blood puddle and sighed; rubbed his neck a bend to grab his jacket. He pulled out his phone as he dialed for Hank back at the mansion, the truck come closer.

"Come on! Come on, Dammit! Hank, answer the damn phone!" Logan grouched impatiently. He caught a glimpsed of his crimson colored arms and shirt in the mirror. "Grrr!" he shook his head in disgust of the whole ordeal, slammed the bathroom door on his way to the hall. "Damn it Hank! Pick up!" he gripped aloud as he paced.

"Hello! Logan! It's 4:30 am!" Hank finally answered the phone.

"Can it! Look, I need your help. What should… I've got a die'n woman, mutant on my hands. Hank! Are you there? Hello!" Logan snapped.

"Well, yes Logan. I was just listening to get…"Hank responded in his usual calm tranquil tone.

"So listen faster! I'm not sure she'll make it through the night! What do I need ta do? How fast can you get here?" Logan snarled. Has Hank began to talk, Logan watched out the window while the semi-truck pulled up. Its head lights beamed through the front picture window. "Sonvua… I can't believe this!" Logan growled and ducked under the bar. The lights and engine shut off. Hank still talked as Logan lower the phone and peeked around the side.

"Well, Logan first I need to know where you are, then what's the problem. What happened? What's killing her? Did you stab her on accident?" Hank began to question. "Logan, I don't understand… I can't help if I …Logan! Are you there?" Hank pried confused. Logan hung up the phone when the truck door opened then closed.

"Sonvuabitch!" Logan muttered when he heard the tavern door open and then slam closed. "Shouldva locked the damn door James!" He thought to himself. The footsteps advanced; the gait was small and quick. "It's a woman." He thought to himself, "Once she sees the blood on floor, she'll flee for sure." He stayed motionless; listened and waited in the shadow.


End file.
